


dead man’s party

by Pidonyx



Series: I Can Thrill You More than Any Ghost Would Ever Try [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Lemon Tea, Bride Sombra, Comtesse Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, F/F, Gen, Junkenstein's Revenge, Junkenstein’s Revenge Verse, Pumpkin Reaper, Will O’ the Wisp Tracer, background symbra - Freeform, cutting it a bit close aren’t we, happy halloween thotties im back w an annual halloween fic, loosely speaking, sitting and talking: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: the midnight hour approaches once again, and as is the tradition, creatures crawl on this cold october night.





	dead man’s party

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys what’s up? 
> 
> happy halloween! got this wrapped up just in time! sorry it’s short, but cut me some slack (it’s my first semester of college. im coping)
> 
> i wrote this. VERY fast, starting it on monday, finishing it last night, running it by my editor/sister this morning and whipping out edits tonight. so. sorry if it seems a little rushed because it was but i SO wanted to have something out for halloween, it’s become kind of a tradition, and i like doing it.
> 
> hope you enjoy! please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar errors that seem unintentional as i edited it myself!
> 
> title from “dead man’s party” by oingo boingo which is a BOP in addition to being a halloween classic

From a distance the fire in the woods, and the figures silhouetted around it, looked to be of the sort any would expect — a campfire, with some traveling souls or adventurers huddled close to its warmth, or perhaps using it to cook their meal. But not a soul sitting awash in the orange glow of the flames had needed such sustenance as food for a long time, and regardless of how they appeared, human-passing does not mean human. 

The shorter of the two solid figures sitting on the logs settled next to the fire was speaking, gesturing so enthusiastically that the hood of her traveling cloak kept slipping down off of her head, firelight catching in her long black hair and turning white streaks to copper before she tugged it back up. The other was still, hood concealing their face, cloak pulled tight around their shoulders, only moving to nudge the short one when her gesticulation got too wild.

Across from the pair was a hazy silhouette, ever so slightly blurry around the edges, just enough that one would fixate on it and perhaps completely miss that the girl was transparent, as well. She was engaged in conversation with the short figure, matching her beat for beat in animation and enthusiasm, leaning so far forwards on her log that her heels were beginning to pass through it. 

At the edge of the flickering ring of light, another figure hovered, not venturing near the flames but staying close enough that warm orange winked off of the buttons adorning the rich double breasted suit jacket she wore. She also was silent, still as a statue, unblinking, occasionally flicking her gaze towards the two creatures excitedly chattering back and forth, but for the most part keeping her eyes fixed on the darkened woods around them with a predatory glint. 

“So how did you escape?” Gasped the spirit, see-through brown eyes stretched wide.

The monster smirked, flashing a hint of canine. She ran an ashen hand through her hair, twirling a strand around her finger. “Oh, it was tough, wasn’t it? Lots of danger. Certainly didn’t just walk away one night and never look back, did we?” With this she jostled the fully cloaked figure beside her, who said nothing.

“Oh! But you aren’t worried Junkenstein is going to come for you?” The spirit put a hand to her face, flushed bluish pink against her freckles. “Gosh, and I thought I had it rough there for a bit!”

The monster cackled, tossing her head back and flapping a hand in the spirit’s direction, stitches on her neck and wrist straining dangerously. (Perhaps too dangerously. The tall figure grabbed her arm and shoved it back down into her lap.) “Oh, the doctor is no threat. Silly man. A bit mad. Certainly a little bit miffed by his dismissal from the castle. But I don’t think he really means much harm.”

The spirit looked doubtful, flashing a look towards the countess in the shadows and muttering something that sounded a lot like “ _didn’t he set a monster on an entire village...?_” but the cloaked figure next to the monster spoke up for the first time before she could say anything out loud, voice an inhuman rumble. 

“_I would worry more about the Witch._”

The monster’s bravado faltered slightly, and she blinked, forcing a tilted grin onto her face. “C’mon, now, Gabi, you don’t really believe that, do you?” She flicked her gaze in her companion’s direction. “You think it’s really worth that hag’s time to go schlepping through every forest in the world looking for us?”

The figure had fallen silent again, and did not respond, but the excitable poltergeist was staring at him now, fidgeting on top of her log. 

The monster tipped her head in her direction, raising a stitched-through eyebrow. The ghost went pink again. “Sorry! It’s just — “ she laughed, a slightly nervous pitch to her tone. “You are.......you are the Reaper, aren’t you?” She said, voice getting quieter on the end of the question, chancing a glance in the cloaked figure’s direction. 

He raised a shoulder wordlessly in confirmation, tucking further back into the dark hood shadowing any potentially visible features. 

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” the monster said, tone more sincere. She gave the wraith a thoughtful look and placed a comforting hand on what would have been, generally, an upper arm, giving it two little pats. He sighed, low and gravelly, and she beamed. Turning her attention back to the spirit, she gave her a meaningful look, eyebrows raised. “I don’t like to either, really. They wanted me to marry the doctor’s monster.” She pursed her lips. “Can’t say I was too happy about that. I mean,” she tossed a grin in the spirit’s direction. “If you can believe it, he was  totally not my type.”

Her tone was a bold attempt at flippancy, but her toothy smile slipped a little, and the tall figure nudged her. She looked up at him, lips stretching in a grateful, if slightly tense, smile before she looked down into her lap.

The spirit peered at her worriedly. “That sounds awful, love. Sorry.”

Seemingly shaking herself out of whatever reverie she was in, the monster flashed a grin. “Oh, it was, don’t get me wrong, but I’m pretty sure Gabi’s deal was a whole lot worse. And anyways, we’re out now, so it doesn’t really matter.”

The ghost didn’t look convinced, but accepted the apparent dismissal of the subject and shot a look at the wraith. “Gabi?”

The monster waved a hand nonchalantly, throwing an arm around her companion’s shoulders. “Gabriel. He lets me call him Gabi.”

“Doubtful,” the wraith muttered under his breath, and the ghost pressed her hands to her mouth to smother a laugh. 

“It’s because I’m his favorite,” the monster declared, smirking, and though the phantom sighed again at that he didn’t dispute it, and the monster grinned delightedly in triumph. 

The ghost laughed, tinkling, and beamed in the monster’s direction, spectral eyes crinkling at the corners. “So what about you?”

“I am known by many names, I — “

“Sombra.” The specter interrupted. “That’s what she calls herself. The doctor called her Olivia, but she likes to be called Sombra.”

Sombra grumbled, smacking at his shoulder and only managing to make the fabric in the area dent in slightly before filling back in. “He wasn’t the  only one who called me that, of course you had to go and choose the most unpleasant — “ she cut herself off, looking delighted and surprised. “Hey, I think that’s the most you’ve said in a row since I’ve known you! Good for you,  _Viejo_ !” She slapped excitedly at the same spot, grinning.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, but even though no facial features were discernable under the hood, it kind of sounded like he might be smiling.

The ghost’s grin grew even wider. “Hey, that’s great! I’m Lena, by the by, it’s nice to meet you! And what about you, love?” She said, turning to address the woman hovering at the edge of the firelight.

She seemed startled to be addressed, mouth twisting, chin lifting. “It does not matter,” she replied curtly.

“Aw, come on! We’re all friends now, aren’t we? You never did tell us what you were doing out here didja? So I think it’s only fair...!” She raised an eyebrow, mouth tilting up at the corner in an odd way.

The countess huffed a sigh sharply through her nose. “Amélie Lacroix. You may call me Countess Lacroix or you will not refer to me at all.”

“Sure thing, Amélie!”

Sombra cackled again, clapping her hands together. 

“You will show me more respect if the worst comes to pass. I do not imagine you are much accustomed to fighting for your life.”

The spirit’s brow furrowed. “You’d be surprised...!” She frowned, glancing towards the other two creatures, then back to the countess. “...What do you mean?”

The countess’s waxy face split in a grim red smile, close-lipped and cold. “You all have chosen a very interesting wood for sanctuary. This place is home to an ally of the very Witch you speak of, besides playing host to others.” Her saffron eyes, which had momentarily been fixed on the ghost’s hyaline features, flicked once again to the obscured wilds beyond the golden reach of the firelight, a crease appearing briefly at her brow. “There is a banshee in this forest, and no ordinary one, either. She takes pleasure in her cruelty. And I do not doubt that she would turn you over to the Witch — all three of you — if for no reason beyond seeing the pain of other creatures.”

The monster, who at the mention of “others” had been smirking, muttering something quietly to her companion, froze, and though by most arguments she was completely bloodless, managed to go a full shade closer to colorless. Her hand froze in midair where she had been wrapping a strand of hair around a seam on her knuckle. Next to her, the wraith shifted on the log’s surface, cloak pulling tighter. A wisp of smoke curled from the hood. 

Lena still looked slightly baffled, but the countess noted the change in demeanor, eyes snapping up in their direction. “Familiar with her,  I am guessing?”

“You could say that,” Sombra said, though her playful demeanor had vanished. She shot a glance in the wraith’s direction. 

“Hm.” The countess looked back out towards the woods. “Well. Fortunately I do not believe she is out on this particular night. Still, it does not do to be off of our guard. She can be...unpredictable.”

“You could say that,” Sombra said again, under her breath. She shifted just a hair closer to Gabriel.

“But that’s not what you’re afraid of, is it, love?” The spirit interjected, eyes narrowing in a smug expression when the countess scowled at her. “There’s something else. Or someone?”

The countess’s lips pulled apart in a warning snarl, a bright spear of tooth white against the blood red of her mouth. The ghost’s round eyes sparked in triumph, and she immediately clenched her jaw, lips clamping back together. 

The spirit’s jovial grin took on a slight edge. “So that  is it, then? Worried the vampire hunters are gonna pop out and stake ya?”

The countess, losing her cold composure, made a lunge in the ghost’s direction, fangs baring, growing longer and more pointed. When they clamped down on nothing, though — of course, passing right through — she made a noise of rage. The spirit laughed rather nastily.

“ _Enough_. ”

The wraith’s voice cut through the situation, effectively ending it. The spirit and the countess both turned to look at him where he was now on his feet, towering over both of them, the spirit with a kind of incredulous smile, still looking belligerent, and the vampire herself looking downright murderous.

“We aren’t going to do this. Sit  _down_ .”

The spirit, now wide-eyed again and looking a little abashed, flopped back down on her log. The countess whirled around, taking a few sharp steps to return to her post by the tree.

“Good.” The wraith lowered himself back to his own spot next to Sombra. 

The monster glanced between the vampire now leaning against the gnarled oak, eyes burning into the darkness beyond, and the ghost, who looked somewhat embarrassed and maybe a little bit sulky. There was a beat of silence.

“...What was that about?” The monster said, half to diffuse the tension, half genuine question. Her voice was quiet enough that the countess wouldn’t hear, mouth quirking into an uncomfortable half-smile.

The spirit tucked her legs up, knees bunching (literally) into her chest, crossing her arms over them. She hesitated, biting her lip. “Well...” She said haltingly, eyes flicking towards the countess and back. Then she leaned forwards, words coming out hushed and fast. “They say she murdered her husband. I  know she killed the leader of the Shambali monks, up in the mountains...if she is who she says she is...well, I just don’t feel very comfortable rubbing shoulders with a cold blooded killer.” She looked towards the wraith, suddenly, looking awkward. “No offense?” 

“None taken,” he said, though his subhuman voice sounded tired. 

“Anyways,” she mumbled, looking down at her laced fingers. “‘Wasn’t fair of me to goad her I guess. Or very nice.”

Sombra smirked, snickering. “Can’t really say I think any of us have a spotless record,  _tonta_ .”

The ghost smiled, seemingly returning to spirits. “Fair enough.” 

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise in the little circle of light the crackling and popping of the flames licking at firewood, and the occasional sharp snap of a twig out in the surrounding darkness (at which the countess’s gaze would always flick sharply in the direction of the noise). Then, the monster shot a side glance at the wraith, and stretched her jaw wide in a yawn, stitching at the corner of her mouth straining. 

“Well. It’s getting late. I think I’m going to turn in.”

Her companion gave a long-suffering sigh. “You don’t need to sleep.”

“Sure I do. Who’s taking first watch? I’m guessing it’s Miss  _Murciélago_ over there, huh?”

The ghost shot another glance over her shoulder, looking uncomfortable. The monster grinned. “Ah,  _relajate_ , she’s been fine this entire time. Think she’s gonna take a nice chomp out of your metaphysical jugular or what?”

The specter still looked jumpy, but shrugged, and the monster rolled her eyes, clamping a hand down on the fabric of the wraith’s cloak. “ _Por Dios_.  Alright. Well I’m going to knock myself out for a few hours. Beats sitting here with you  _cabrónes_ .” She grinned crookedly as she stood up, bumping the wraith (or trying to, as whatever was inside the garment seemed to have gone mostly insubstantial again) with her hip. “ _Buenas noches, Viejo_ _._”

The wraith made a sound that may have been a laugh. “ _Buenas noches, Tramposa._ ”

The monster cackled as she left, walking a short distance out of the glow of the fire, still visible from the vantage point of the other three creatures around it, where she flopped to the dirt and seemingly went unconscious immediately, leaves disturbed by her fall still floating around her. 

The ghost laughed quietly. “She’s a character, isn’t she?”

“Could say the same for yourself,” the wraith replied.

The spirit grinned, giving him a sideways glance. “You two are traveling together?” The wraith made a noise of assent. “Anywhere in particular?”

He shifted, shoulders hunching slightly. “Away from the Witch.” He went quiet, and the ghost kept her eyes on him, staying silent as well, and kicking her feet, spectral matter passing through the log she was perched on, then back again. 

“Sombra left someone behind.” He hesitated, as if he was unsure he should be sharing this information. The spirit nodded for him to continue. When the wraith spoke again, his raspy voice was quieter. “Another temporary ally of the Witch. Joined up for her intended assault on the castle. Sombra wanted her to leave with us, she said no. I think she’s still unhappy about it. Hoping if she asks again the answer will change. So I suppose we’re maybe looking for her.”

He paused again, another long stretch of silence where the fire’s hungry snaps and crackles were the only sounds between the wanderers. This one was long enough that even the countess, who had been pretending not to listen, flicked her eyes towards them for a moment.

“I left some people. Before. A long time ago. We’re looking for them, too.”

The spirit smiled tentatively, tilting her head a bit as if that might help her see under the hood. “Well I hope you two find who you’re looking for. ‘M trying to find someone myself, so I can see how it would be a bit of a task.”

The wraith didn’t verbally respond, but the hood shifted, tipping to the side in a question.

The spirit laughed, a sporting shot at nonchalance, but the sound fell flat, attempt at a grin tilting. “She’s — Um. It’s a she. She’s still alive, I think. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. Her name’s Emily. She’s important to me, y’know? I just want her to know...that I’m doing okay, more or less. Or just to see her, maybe.” She laughed again, a sort of self-deprecating titter. “A little silly, ‘sn’t it?”

The wraith didn’t echo her laughter. “You’ll find her.” He said, quietly, but firmly.

A watery smile crept its way onto the spirit’s face, and she looked down at the dirt, tangling her fingers together. “Thanks.”

“Hm.”

The silence that followed was not tense with unsaid information, or anticipatory of any speech. It wasn’t what might be called a comfortable silence — there were still the darkened woods around their circle of flame, and the road ahead to contend with come dawn. But still, none of the three entities around the makeshift pit of hastily circled stones, watching the tongues of flame creep up the dry wood fueling the blaze felt any need to disturb it.

The Countess looked out, amber irises cutting through the shroud of night covering the gnarled, black-bark trees, and waited.

The Spirit stared into the embers, their coppery luminescence reflecting, at the whim of what rule that governs wandering souls, in her translucent brown eyes, lost in thought, for the moment.

The Wraith wrapped his cloak around what was left of his body further, closing his burning eyes and focusing on staying together, pushing thoughts of old memories and present struggles to the back of his mind.

And beyond the warm corona of the bonfire’s reach, the Monster, mind away, back in shadowy corners of chateaus and unfrequented rooms off of little corridors, slept like the dead.

The forest around them rustled with unseen creatures, but none ventured into the light, and no being, human-passing or otherwise, gave the little gathering of souls any trouble. It was dark. And the world could wait.


End file.
